Expand, Collapse
by Honest Usual
Summary: Hatake Sakumo recieves an unexpected delivery that threatens his very lifestyle. What he thinks will be a simple adjustment quickly becomes much more.
1. One

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.**

* * *

The outside of Hatake Sakumo's dilapidated apartment building never looked so inviting. Sure, the grey concrete walls were riddled with cracks, the windows needed cleaning, and roof was rusty and spotted with pigeon droppings, but it was home—a home he hadn't seen for nearly three weeks. The mere sight of it lifted his mood, not that his mood was foul before returning to the village. His prior mission was a complete success; his team was returning unharmed, and three highly undesirable Suna-nin lay dead amongst the karst towers of River Country, the lonely limestone hills a fitting necropolis for the enemy. Soon, he would receive his commission, and then he could spend the evening patronizing some of the village's finer establishments, reminding the female citizenry of Konoha that the White Fang was still their Number One Playboy.

After all, tonight was Halloween, and the adults of Konoha usually had more fun than the children on the devilish holiday. Already, he had spotted several village brats cavorting around in costume, dressed up like miniature ANBU, tiny Hokages, plus more mainstream fantasies, such as ghosts, tengu, oni, and princesses. He took a moment to fantasize about some of his own acquaintances dressed up in Halloween costumes—skimpy costumes that were easily removed.

As he shuffled up to the building's entrance, he hummed a few upbeat bars of the popular tune "Meet Me in Tanzaku Gai". A brindled tomcat was lounging on the stoop, blocking the door as it soaked up the warmth of the noontime sunrays, and, as Sakumo gently shooed him away, the scrawny feline hissed a complaint.

"Sorry, friend," apologized the jounin. "I'll put out some milk later, ok?"

Halfway up the stairs, Sakumo abruptly stopped humming. Somewhere, up above, he heard the rasp of breathing and the soft rustle of cloth. Someone was standing on the landing outside the door to his apartment.

He frowned under his mask. If it were an assassin, they were making a huge mistake.

Up the stairs he crept, making no sound, until the landing came into view.

There, milling about in the small space, stood three people, none of which looked like a shinobi. In the back, there was a short, frumpy woman, wearing a white headpiece that covered her ears and neck. She had a bulky bag slung over one shoulder and carried a cloth-wrapped package in her arms. Her blue eyes were nearly hidden behind droopy eyelids.

Closest to the door to Sakumo's apartment was a gangly, arrogant-looking man, dressed in robes of the brightest purple, topped off with the most ridiculous matching flat-top hat that Sakumo had ever seen. It looked as if the man had put a dinner plate on his head and draped a scalloped tablecloth over it. Small-lensed spectacles teetered at the end of his long, crooked nose.

The third person was the only one who was visibly armed. Tucked in the young man's sash was a thick cutlass that was so well-polished that it glittered in the dull light. The man's split-tailed jacket was a faded blue, but still crisp and ironed. Atop his head, he wore a dark visored hat that was secured with a strap under his chin. The whole outfit was clearly a uniform of some sort. He also bore a large pack on his back, while the older man carried nothing but a small satchel.

The trio's manner of dress was foreign, and Sakumo did not recognize any of their faces. Why they had come to him was a mystery.

"Costume party starts at eight," said the Konoha-nin coolly, suddenly standing to the side of the older man. To Sakumo's satisfaction, all three strangers jumped noticeably.

The man closed his grey-blue eyes and coughed into his curled hand in a shallow effort to regain his composure. "Hatake Sakumo, I presume?"

Just like his clothing, the man's accent was foreign. His _a_'s came out fat and rounded, and he emphasized the syllables oddly. In took a moment, but Sakumo eventually placed the strange accent: Uzu no Kuni, the Country of the Whirlpool. In truth, the older man looked like he might be a representative from the royal court of that country, and the other man was dressed like one of the ceremonial guards. That would explain why the group was allowed to enter the village. The purple-robed man must have diplomatic credentials.

The White Fang searched his memories for a clue as to why he might have visitors such as these three. There had been many missions to the small country just south of Kaminari no Kuni. Perhaps he owed them money. Perhaps they wished to procure his services. Perhaps they came for revenge.

"Yeah, that's right. I'm Sakumo. And, why…are you Uzu folks here?"

"Perhaps," the leader coughed again, "we can speak somewhere privately?"

"Sure," replied the jounin. "Come on in." It wasn't the safest thing, inviting strangers into one's home, but Sakumo figured he could take them, if necessary. He turned and, after jiggling a key in the door knob, unlocked the door. Once inside, he slipped off his tantou and laid it on the table with a gesture that seemed casual, but left the blade in such a position that it would be readily available if he needed it.

He looked the guard up and down. They were both soldiers, but the two of them couldn't be more different. For every polished button and buckle of the Uzu youth's uniform, Sakumo's uniform was marred by a smear of mud or a splash of dried blood. The other man's blond hair was cropped and clean. Sakumo's white hair was shaggy, tied in the back, dirty and greasy. His team hadn't bothered to stop and clean up after their mission. They had decided to head straight home, and, as a result, the jounin still looked like he had just walked off the battlefield. The other soldier looked like he had just walked out of a salon. Sakumo was only twenty-two years old, and he figured the soldier was about the same age. However, even though the Uzu man tried to keep a relaxed expression, Sakumo could tell he was nervous and intimidated. After all, the jounin had a reputation throughout the lands as one of the deadliest shinobi Konoha had to offer.

Sakumo's small studio apartment was not much cleaner than Sakumo himself. Dirty dishes were stacked in the sink, left to incubate for weeks and hosting more than a few well-fed flies. Used food wrappers were strewn on the counter and table. Every other horizontal surface was piled with unopened mail, bottles, books, spools of wire, dull kunai, pencils, and random reminder notes he had left for himself and then completely forgotten. Each of these exposed items was covered with a fine coating of dust, along with the multiple articles of clothing strewn on the floor, including a small pile of socks and underwear collected in the corner. His visitors huddled in a knot by the door, as if they were afraid the grime and chaos would rub off onto their brightly colored finery.

"All right," began the Konoha-nin, "who are you?"

"We are simply couriers from Uzu no Kuni. Our identities are unimportant," said the taller man.

"Couriers, eh? You're a long way from Uzu no Kuni. Must be something important. So then, what is it that you are delivering?"

The man coughed again and tilted his head back towards the woman and the bundle she carried. "Your son."

"My son?!" exclaimed Sakumo. "That's impossible…"

The purple robed man responded by reaching into the woman's arms and pulling a baby from the swirl of white cloth that she cradled. He held out the diapered infant with extended arms, supporting it by its armpits and letting its legs dangle in the air. Still sleepy, the baby blinked at the ninja with moist dark eyes. Sprouting from the baby's scalp was a full head of pale, white hair. The baby did not merely resemble the White Fang—it was as if Sakumo had been cloned and then regressed 22 years. Even with its fat cheeks and squished nose, there was no mistaking who the father was, and any hope for vindication was quickly crushed.

Sakumo's mouth was suddenly dry, and the fact that his jaw hung slack was hidden by the black cloth of his mask.

There had been a lot of women in his life, but only a few in Uzu no Kuni. Although he knew very little about birth, one thing he did know what that a baby took about nine months. That meant this baby—his baby—was conceived in January or December. That also meant there was only one woman who could be the baby's mother.

"Kirika," he muttered under his breath.

"_Lady_ Kirika," corrected the Uzu diplomat. "And, as far as the Daimyo and the rest of the Karai Clan is concerned, this baby does not exist." He handed the infant back to the woman, who protectively wrapped it back in the soft blanket.

"So, what then. You expect me to take him?" asked the jounin.

"Frankly, shinobi, after we leave, we don't care what you do with the boy. But this child is not returning to Uzu no Kuni. Antese, if you would…"

As ordered, the woman walked over to Sakumo and held the baby out for the ninja to accept. Still shocked by the revelation, Sakumo acquiesced, gingerly taking the little package in his own arms. The baby, now fully awake, stared intently at the new adult face and the muted shine of the Konoha-style hitai-ate.

"If you or your son ever enters Uzu no Kuni again, you'll be arrested, charged with extortion, and extradited to Kaminari no Kuni. Considering you're high on the list in their bingo book, I expect they wouldn't keep you alive for long." The man turned to leave.

"Wait!" said Sakumo.

The man paused at the request, hand resting on the doorknob. "Yes?"

Sakumo had a lot of questions, a lot of things to say, but he was so overwhelmed that his thoughts were all jumbled in his head. "W-what's the kid's name?"

"It's whatever you choose to call him." He opened the door. "Good luck, Hatake," he added disdainfully as he left the apartment. The soldier and the woman quickly followed, shutting the door behind them.

The jounin stared at the closed door for several minutes, unmoving.

Then, a faint coo came from the child he now held, reminding Sakumo that he was no longer alone. He looked down at the chubby face. "What the hell am I going to do now?"


	2. Two

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.**

* * *

Minori was sitting in a chair with one foot propped on a cushioned tuffet, painting her toenails a soft chayote green, when a loud knock sounded at her door. 

"Just a minute," she shouted. She wasn't quite dressed, and as fun as it would be to answer the door in just her lacy bra and panties, she was feeling a bit more chaste than normal. She swept her black silk dressing robe off the back of the chair and slipped it over her arms as she walked to the door.

Swinging the door aside, she quickly recognized the tall shinobi standing outside her house. She sighed. "Sakumo, I already told you I have plans for tonight. Why don't you go to that cute barmaid's party instead? The redhead? She's totally into you, you know."

Pushing past her, he walked inside, uninvited. A foul odor drifted into the room, along with the jounin.

"You stink," commented Minori as she wrinkled her nose.

"I just got back from a mission. I haven't showered yet," he mumbled. The woman noticed how stiff Sakumo was and how he was not behaving like the quick-witted, cocky young man she was used to. In his arms, he carried something wrapped in white cloth. "I need your help," he said.

"My help?" she echoed. His distracted, scattered expression concerned her. "With what?"

"This." Sakumo held up the package he had brought into her house.

Minori gasped and drew her well-manicured hand over her mouth. It was a baby, about six weeks old. And it looked just like Sakumo.

He continued, "You're the closest thing I have to a friend that's a girl. I didn't know where else to go."

She couldn't take her eyes off the infant. The resemblance was unmistakable. "Am I close to a friend, or close to a girl?"

"Minori…this is not a joke. What do I do?"

"Well," she regained her composure, "who's the mother? It's not anyone from Konoha. I would have heard about that. We _all_ would have heard about that."

"I can't tell you," he replied, shifting his half-lidded eyes away from her face.

"Why not?"

"I just can't, ok?"

She frowned. "Sakumo, the only reason we're still friends, is that I refuse to sleep with you. Any of your other female friends would have just thrown you and that baby out on the street on your butts. That's why you came here. If you want my help, my advice, you better answer my questions."

Sakumo stared intently at the young woman. She was right, of course. He had tried to bed her on multiple occasions, and every time she had turned him down. With her long, pale blue hair and eyes of the same color, she was one of the most striking kunoichi in Konoha. But, she did everything possible to look the opposite of a ninja, making sure her make-up was impeccable and wearing the most fashionable outfits. Although, she was rarely visibly armed, Sakumo had learned, first-hand, how skillful the woman was at hiding weapons in surprising places. He also knew why she always rejected him. He didn't have what she really wanted—money. Almost everything she owned had been gifted by one of her lovers.

But, a true man never let rejection bother him. Minori and Sakumo had enough commonalities that the two jounin had become good friends. Minori was close in age to Sakumo, only a year younger. They both had not only survived, but thrived during the Second Secret World War, earning nicknames due to their exploits. He became the White Fang, terror in battle, and she became the Blue Enchantress, weakening minds with illusion. And, in addition to their infamy in the shinobi world, they both had earned reputations in the village for sexual promiscuity.

He had gone to her house, because, out of all the women in Konoha, she would be the least likely to judge him.

"All right. I'll tell you, but you _cannot_ tell anyone about this." he said. "Can we at least sit down?"

She nodded and returned to her seat where she had been painting her toenails. The silk robe slid to the sides of her shapely legs as she crossed them. Sakumo slumped into the soft stuffed sofa opposite Minori, resting the sleeping baby in his lap. Between the two ninja, stood a low wooden table inlaid with a repetitive pattern of ivory flowers.

"I'm waiting," she commented.

Sakumo closed his charcoal eyes and breathed deeply. "In December, last year, I went to Uzu no Kuni for a mission. I was supposed to gather information about the alleged alliance between Uzu and Kaminari, specifically, what kind of mutual defense arrangements they had and what kind of troop movements were planned. I posed as an emissary from the Miyanakabashi Monks and infiltrated the royal court of Uzu no Kuni."

Minori snorted. "Aren't those monks celibate?"

The other jounin rolled his eyes. "Yes, but it was good cover, ok? The Daimyo is a religious man."

"All right, all right." The kunoichi waved him off.

"Anyway…on New Year's Eve, they had a big celebration. And everyone was drinking. A lot. And this pretty young girl starts chatting with me."

"So you screwed her, huh? Sounds logical. Who was she?"

"Karai Kirika, the Daimyo's daughter."

"Wait, wait. That kid's mom is a _Lady_?"

Sakumo shrugged "She was the Daimyo's youngest child. I figured she might know something about the alliance."

"Did she?" asked Minori skeptically.

"Well, no," he admitted.

Minori was convinced that there was something else that her friend wasn't saying. She thought through a few possibilities, until one seemed rather likely. "And how young, exactly, is the Daimyo's youngest child?"

Sakumo slumped over and stared at the table. "Sixteen."

"Sixteen?! You knocked up a sixteen-year old?!"

He laughed nervously and scratched at the back of his head. "Actually, she was still fifteen at the time. But, very mature for her age."

"Sheesh, Sakumo, you should know better than that."

Sakumo raised an eyebrow. "You've done worse, Minori."

"At least I never ended up pregnant. _I_ take my tinctures."

"I take mine, too. But you know those birth inhibitors aren't 100 percent."

"Well, you've got some shitty luck right there."

"You're telling me," he groaned.

Minori leaned back in her chair and rested her elbow on the upholstered back. "The Karai family disowned the baby didn't they?"

Sakumo nodded. "They left him here today."

They both knew the reason. "Yes, it wouldn't suit a noble clan to have _ninja_ blood tainting their perfect gene pool, would it?"

A bitter silence settled between the pair as they stared at the ornamented surface of the table. Most nobles considered ninja to be third-class citizens, barely above animals. But, when war broke out, and their lifestyles were threatened, the first places the upper class went crying to were the hidden villages and the ninja clans.

"So, what are you going to do with it? Keep it? Raise it yourself?" asked Minori.

"Do I have a choice?"

Her eyes drifted down to the sleeping bundle. "You can give him up. Leave him at some orphanage. But, it'll have to be somewhere far from Konoha, because everyone'll know it's your kid, with the resemblance and all…"

Sakumo's jaw tensed. "What? I can't do that! He's already been abandoned by his mother's side. If I abandon him, too, I'll be no better than those people, and he'll be left without anyone!"

Minori shook her head sadly. "Then you _have_ decided. I swear, Sakumo, despite your act, sometimes you care too much about other people. It'll be the death of you yet."

"I'm the only person he has right now."

She looked him directly in the eyes. "By yourself, you are not enough."

He turned his head away from her blue-eyed gaze and sighed. "I know. That's why I was hoping you could…give me some tips. Or something."

"Tips? I don't know anything about babies!"

"B-but, you're a woman. Aren't you guys born with that knowledge? You know, maternal instinct, like what they eat, how to hold them, things they do things besides sleep, and so on."

The blue-haired kunoichi rolled her eyes. "I have four older brothers, and I became a ninja, Sakumo. Not exactly a lot of mothers in this line of work. Nor do I have any friends with kids. Your typical housewife does not exactly approve of my lifestyle…"

"Then where do you find out how to raise a baby? Are there books in the library?"

"Probably, but I think you need some personal coaching. Why don't you talk to Tsunade?"

Sakumo looked appalled. "The Slug Princess? But she's so…scary. You do know what she did to Jiraiya in February, right? It took him two months to recover. And he's her _teammate_!"

"Well, she's a ninja, so she might be a little more understanding than others. Plus, she practically raised her little brother, so I'll bet she know something about kids, especially with all that work she does in the hospital."

Glancing down to the small child cradled in his arms, Sakumo felt overwhelmed. Suddenly, his life was turned upside-down. But, he was a shinobi of Konoha. He had survived two world wars and hundreds of battles. He had killed more enemies than he could remember. No matter how dire the circumstances, he had survived. He would survive fatherhood. He would thrive. The baby cracked open its dark grey eyes and gurgled. A bubble of spit grew at the corner of its lips.

"All right. I'll go see Tsunade." Sakumo stood up, ready to leave. "Can you come, too?"

"No, I have to get ready for my date with Tikkudan," she replied, clearly defining what her priorities were.

Sakumo's eyes widened. "Mitarashi Tikkudan? He's as old as the Hokage! And, he's married, _with_ kids."

Minori gave Sakumo a slightly devilish grin. "_And_ he's rich. I can overlook the other flaws."

The jounin chuckled and shook his head, feeling a little more like his old self. The woman could make even a guy like him feel like a saint. He walked up to her door and opened it.

"By the way, what's his name?" asked Minori offhandedly, as Sakumo stepped outside with the newborn resting in his arms.

_They didn't even give him a name,_ recalled Sakumo. He looked down the street. Four children were playing nearby, dressed up in their Halloween costumes and running in wild circles. There was a doctor, a farmer, a black cat, and then another skinny boy who stood off to the side, a pariah who watched the others but wasn't invited to join their game.

"Kakashi," replied Sakumo.

Minori gave her friend an odd look. "Kakashi? That doesn't sound like a child's name…" She leaned out the door, looking in the direction where Sakumo had been gazing. "Sakumo! Did you just see that kid dressed like a scarecrow, and decide to call your baby that?"

He shifted awkwardly. "Maybe…"

"Well, that's a stupid name. You might as well call him Enoki or Botan, or something else just as weird. Why don't you pick a real name, huh?"

"No." Minori's pushiness was bringing out Sakumo's stubbornness. "His name is Kakashi."

She stared at her friend some more, then turned away and flicked the back of her had in his direction, pretending like she didn't care in the first place. "Hatake Kakashi it is," she huffed.

"Have fun tonight with Old Man Mitarashi," he taunted in return.

Without another word, she slammed the door closed behind her.


	3. Three

**Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto.**

* * *

As Sakumo pushed his way through the swinging double doors into the lobby of the hospital, the baby nestled in his arms began to wake. Pudgy arms and legs wiggled from within the wrappings. He instinctively pressed the small bundle against his vest, momentarily forgetting the unsanitary condition of the garment.

He looked across the rows of tan and olive green vinyl chairs, laid out for the benefit of anxious friends and families who refused to leave their injured comrades. A painting of a fiery ocean sunrise hung on the wall, and a few withered palm trees stood next to the seats, someone's failed attempt at summoning the feel of a sea-side esplanade in order to hide the impersonality of such a clinical setting. Currently, the room's only occupant was the receptionist hovering over the check-in desk. A miniature cairn of polished red apples rose from a basket next to the sign-in sheet that lay on top of the counter.

_Good, a slow day,_ thought Sakumo silently.

The petite, young civilian raised her head when she heard the doors swish as they settled back into their closed position. She recognized the jounin and lifted a pale, graceful hand to wave at him.

Vaguely, Sakumo recalled spending some time previously with the black-haired woman, but her name escaped him. _Yoshiko? Kishiko? Something -ko…_

"Sakumo-san! Nice to see you, again." Did he know her from one of his hospitalizations, or did he hit on her at some bar? If he could just remember where they met, maybe he could also remember her name.

She was smiling, and, damn, was she cute. Big, round, dark eyes peered out from under green-painted lids. Her white, button-down top, which was delightfully too small, constricted generous proportions that were so rare on such a slight woman. Her naturally red lips slid evenly over perfect teeth as she called his name.

_Yunako?_ He smiled back, and, even though his mouth was concealed behind his form-fitting mask, the smile sparkled in his half-lidded eyes, an effect he had nurtured for use with the opposite sex. He raised his hand and brushed some wayward hair away from his face, only to be reminded by the gritty texture of the white strands that he had never taken his post-mission shower. Suddenly, Sakumo was conscious of how ragged his appearance was, and more importantly, how unappealing his own stench was.

Short of genjutsu, there was nothing he could do about the grime and detritus on his uniform, but at least he could fix the foul smell. After tucking baby Kakashi under one arm, the jounin ran through a quick series of hand seals for a simple, anti-tracking jutsu. The technique effectively eliminated all body odors, thus preventing a ninja from drawing enemies by scent or, even better, thus preventing a ninja from blowing his chances with a cute receptionist.

_Yuriko?_

Sakumo strode over to her, maintaining eye-contact, but careful not to act too eager. When he reached the station, he rested one elbow on the desk and leaned slightly towards the young lady while swinging the blanket-wrapped baby to his far side of his chest, where the infant's presence would not be too obvious. Kakashi squirmed in response to the shift in position.

The jounin looked down at the sign-in clipboard, and, after pretending to think about signing, he drew his gaze up slowly to the woman's face, letting himself linger at her exposed cleavage along the way. Two small lumps casting shadows in strategic places gave him a clear picture where her nipples were hiding and also suggested that she wasn't wearing a bra. Sakumo wondered what else she might not be wearing.

He continued to assess her assets, checking out her long, sculpted neck, her narrow chin, her gently opened mouth, and her perfectly rounded nose.

When he finally made it back up to her expectant eyes, the woman relaxed her eyelids and gave the jounin another smile—this one noticeably more sultry than the first. She seemed to enjoy the visual petting he had just given her.

"And what brings you here, Sakumo-san?" she asked in a playful lilt. "You're not hurt again, are you?"

He picked up one of the fresh apples from the basket on the desk and eyed it casually as he rotated the fruit in his palm. _Yaniko? _"Would I get some special treatment if I was?" he replied suggestively.

The receptionist lifted the ballpoint pen she held and bit the end between her teeth. She kept her lips loosely parted so that Sakumo could see how she ran the tip of her tongue over the plastic end of the instrument. She cocked her head to the side.

Sakumo had stopped breathing. _Yariko? The name, idiot…_

After sliding the pen out from its dental vice, the woman rested the tapered tip on the cushion of her lower lip, making her expression even more pouty and petulant. "I don't think you can afford our special treatment…"

_Yoniko?_ _Yochiko? _"Perhaps," he paused for dramatic effect, "I can arrange for a suitable, alternate, form of payment." He paused again, leaning in closer. "Yoriko." _Bingo._

She smiled again, this time bringing her lips together and trapping the end of the pen between those two yielding, luscious, pliant, supple, trembling, carmine muscles. Sakumo suddenly felt quite jealous of the banausic little writing tool. Yes, he remembered Yoriko very clearly now. He remembered her name, and he also remembered the two dates he took her on that ended wonderfully and wildly in his apartment. It appeared that she was asking for a third date.

He returned the ripe apple to the basket but continued to run his finger slowly along the top of the hump that circled the stem. "You know, today's an important holiday…" he began.

"My shift ends at two in the morning."

"Hmm. That's a little late for festivities, but, perhaps, I could walk you home after your shift? Make sure you're safe? There will be a lot of drunken trouble-makers on the streets tonight, you know."

"I still live with my sister, and I was hoping to get a chance to show off my costume," said Yoriko, raising one waxed and penciled eyebrow.

_Ah right, the less attractive, less adventurous, older sister,_ thought Sakumo silently. "Well then, how about I walk you somewhere else? Somewhere of your choosing."

She leaned in close and spoke in a husky voice. "How about I stop by your apartment, for an after-hours Halloween celebration?"

Imagining Yoriko in various scanty, themed outfits, Sakumo was about to accept her offer in the smoothest way he knew, when Kakashi suddenly twitched in his arm and squealed loudly.

Yoriko jerked back in surprise, finally noticing the package that Sakumo had been surreptitiously holding out of view. All sexiness drained from her posture. "Is that a baby?" she asked.

"Um…yeah." There was no point in denying it. The baby squeal was unmistakable. The mood was ruined.

"Why on earth do you have a baby?"

"It's, um, for a mission." He lied.

She looked at him skeptically. "What kind of mission?

"A top-secret mission." Kakashi squealed again, this time more insistently. "That…requires a baby," added Sakumo hastily, as he watched his prospects for evening companionship rapidly deflate before his eyes.

Doubt still clouded Yoriko's eyes.

"That's why I'm here," explained the jounin. "I need to see Tsunade. About the mission. And about the baby. You know. Ninja stuff." He hoped he sounded more convincing than he felt.

"Well, Tsunade-san is currently in a consultation with Dr. Yakushi, but—"

Kakashi broke into a full-fledged baby wail which reverberated though the Waiting Room at an unbelievable volume for such a small pair of lungs. Sakumo knew babies cried, but he wasn't aware of how they could hit that impossible-to-ignore perfect combination of pitch and tone that pierces mercilessly into an adult's brain. Even more unfamiliar were the vagaries of baby behavior, including the fact that they could go from sleep to scream in split-seconds.

The dark-eyed receptionist glanced at the swaddled baby once more. "Is it ok?" She sounded concerned.

"Yeah, he's fine," shouted Sakumo above the din while he bounced the infant in his arms to comfort him.

"Maybe I should look at it—"

"No!" The jounin took a step away from the woman, making sure the baby was out of reach and out of view. Yoriko was taken aback by his abrupt defensiveness. "I mean," he backpedaled, "it's not allowed. Top-secret. Remember?" If Yoriko saw the resemblance of baby to daddy, his sovereign chance of hooking up with her that night would go from poor to non-existent.

"Yeah, ok." Now, the petite woman looked disoriented, which was fine by Sakumo. That meant she was buying the 'top-secret mission' excuse. "Why don't you, uh, go wait in Exam Room 2? I'll tell Tsunade-san you're here."

That sounded like a superb idea to the White Fang. He could get some privacy and take a minute to figure out what was wrong with Kakashi. Then, he could return to the Waiting Room and remind Yoriko that he was still dateless for the night. All he needed to do was suggest she come over. Then, he would have no need of rhabdomancy or horoscopes to foretell his future. That girl was a sure thing.


End file.
